


Thasmin Fencing AU Oneshot

by ToastySpaceTraveller



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:28:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24120610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToastySpaceTraveller/pseuds/ToastySpaceTraveller
Comments: 1
Kudos: 9





	Thasmin Fencing AU Oneshot

A high pitched clanging sound of metal against metal reverberated through Yaz’s ears, echoing throughout the sports hall in a chorus that was occasionally accented with a loud electrical ‘buzz’. The room was filled with rows of people facing each other, so fully absorbed in tense fencing matches that no-one seemed to notice Yaz standing at the edge of the row, helmet in hand, looking a little lost. It was hard moving to a new town and she had thought that picking back up on a hobby of hers from a couple of years ago would help her to meet new people. But now, staring dazedly at the pair beside her, creeping back and forth between each other and lunging in split-second movements, her stomach began to churn with anxiety as she regretted the whole idea. Just as she was reaching down and fumbling to try disconnect the wire from the hilt of her sword she heard a woman’s voice above her.

“Need a partner?” She asked, a northern lilt to her voice. Yaz looked up awkwardly and tried to see through the woman’s helmet to register who was talking to her. She could just about see the outline of a face with a side-swept fringe falling over one eye as she gave in and nodded meekly. The woman gestured for Yaz to stand back on her line and she did so, getting into her stance and saluting with the sword before clumsily fitting her helmet over her head in a hurried manner, bashing herself in the nose in the process. Yaz grunted lightly but the woman made no comment as she saluted her sword back at Yaz and brought it down to point right towards her and begin the match.

Little did she know what she had gotten herself into. Whoever this woman was, she was fast, Yaz thought. Before she knew it she was being attacked from all angles and struggling to defend herself in time. Even when she thought she had parried a lunge from her opponent, the sheer strength of the woman’s grip would slip past Yaz’s defences and hit her in the arm before she could recover. Point after point, Yaz would look back forlornly as she heard the familiar ‘buzz’ and saw the box their swords were wired up to flash a red light, on the opposite side from her, signalling a point. Time after time. In her frustration, Yaz began to get more daring and just after her opponent had reached a maddening thirteen points, she took the initiative to make the first move and lunge straight for the woman’s chest. The ensuing seconds were a blur and she felt a sharp prod to her own chest at what felt like the same time as her sword made an impact that sent a jolt through her arm. She sighed heavily before glancing to her right to notice a green flash from the box indicating a point on her side. A rush of triumph soared through her chest as she realised she had finally got past the woman’s razor-sharp defences. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her mysterious opponent casually shaking out the tension in her arm and revelled in the fact that she had managed to have any effect on her at all. Yaz recovered her stance with renewed confidence but went on to score only once more before the woman facing her breezed to fifteen points and ended the match. Yaz stood up straight, breathing heavily. She heard a lighthearted chuckle from ahead of her as the woman approached her with a slight saunter. Just the smug air that radiated from her was enough to make Yaz want to demand a rematch just as the woman was reaching out a gloveless left hand towards her in acknowledgement.

“Good match,” She said, playfully. That only further tugged on Yaz’s stubborn streak but out of respect for the tradition, she held her hand out, to be grasped in a firm and enthusiastic handshake. “Sorry to go so hard on you, newbie.” She teased, without the slightest hint of remorse in her tone. Just as Yaz was stepping back from the interaction in an attempt to cool down, the woman transferred her sword to her left hand and used the other gloved one to slide her helmet off from her head. A flash of fluffy blonde hair caught Yaz’s eye as she subconsciously paused to watch the touseled chin-length strands fall back over the woman’s face and be brushed aside to reveal hazel eyes, still glinting with triumph. The woman held her helmet loosely by her side as she absentmindedly straightened up her collar. Yaz couldn’t bring herself to pull her gaze away from her, the world seeming to slow down somehow, as she continued to track over defined cheekbones, raised eyebrows and a perpetually wry smile that was still half-covered by a swoop of blonde hair. Yaz wondered how she still had been able to beat her so easily with one eye hidden behind a fringe in addition to the dark grate of the helmet as she agreed concluded in her own head that this must be the most beautiful and intimidating woman she had ever met.  
Yaz was jostled unceremoniously from her trance by a friendly arm being flung over her shoulder.

“I see you’ve met Jen. We always tell her to play nice but she never listens.” Yaz turned to see the remark coming from a short woman with petite features and long brown hair that was tied in a low bun. “I’m Clara,” She said, holding out a hand which Yaz absentmindedly shook whilst periodically glancing back over at Jen. She was in the same spot still, doing some lunges, presumably warming up for her next opponent, the poor sod, Yaz thought. Clara followed her gaze and hummed knowingly. “She’s our regional epee champion, the rest of us will be a little nicer, I promise.” She chuckled. Jen must have overheard them talking about her from a few feet away as when she picked up her sword to move the next station she passed them by the benches and caught Yaz’s eye with a smirk, brushing past her in a way that made Yaz’s stomach flip.

“Hope I didn’t scare you off.” She grinned, before she was gone, strolling away across the room. Yaz decided to take a slight breather before her next match and slumped down onto the bench below her with a soft thunk and gazed longingly into the distance. She had a feeling this 'Jen' was going to be the death of her.


End file.
